


Pilgrims on the Road to Bone Town

by CWnerd12



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prequel, only one camel, virgin! Nicky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWnerd12/pseuds/CWnerd12
Summary: Andromache rolled her eyes, “For god’s sake, will you two morons bone already?” The two men turned crimson.“Nicolò is my brother!” Yusuf spat, “He is a man of God!”“And God says you two should fuck,” Andromache replied.A prequel to You Get Used to It.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 252





	Pilgrims on the Road to Bone Town

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523838
> 
> Yes, inspiration taken from a certain scene from Brooklyn 99. The language is anachronistic, but it's the modern equivalent of what they'd actually be saying.

They were travelling to Baghdad- they’d just protected a band of Christian pilgrims all the way from Württemberg to Jerusalem, and now they were hoping to find work protecting caravans along the silk road. Along the way, they spent the night in a small city, where Nicolò heard word of an old woman who cooked meals every day for the poor orphans who roamed the streets. He gave her all the gold he’d received from the last job. On their way out of the city, Yusuf had made heart eyes at Nicolò for hours, causing Quynh to giggle and Andromache to roll her eyes.

When the sun was high in the sky, they were attacked by bandits. The first bandit had leapt upon Nicolò, stabbing him in the back, causing him to fall from his camel. Immediately, Yusuf leapt from his camel and slashed the bandit’s neck. The other three bandits then moved in. Joe fought two of them at once, while Nicolò scrambled to his feet and made an attempt to protect his camel. The final bandit slashed at him, cutting Nicolò’s arms and an artery in the poor animal’s neck. Yusuf ran the bandit through with his sword.

Nicolò looked down at the bloodied bodies on the ground, and smiled softly at Yusuf, “They won’t be robbing anyone else. This road is now safer because of you, Yoosoof.” In a hundred years of immortality, he still hadn’t quite grasped how to correctly pronounce Arabic words. Yusuf found it adorable.

Andromache chimed in, “Thanks, Yusuf. Didn’t even have to get off my camel.”

Yusuf shook his head, “He shouldn’t have attacked Nicolò.” Nicolò thanked him with a warm embrace.

Andromache rolled her eyes, “For god’s sake, will you two morons bone already?” The two men turned crimson.

“Nicolò is my brother!” Yusuf spat, “He is a man of God!”

“And God says you two should fuck,” Andromache replied.

“I maintain my vows,” said Nicolò.

“Right,” said Andromache, “Let’s get going. I want to make it as far as we can before the sun goes down.”

Quynh spoke up, “We should butcher the camel. The meat will keep at least until tonight, and it will make a good dinner.”

Andromache made a face, “Hm. We should.”

“Yusuf and I will do it,” said Nicolò, kneeling down.

Yusuf knelt beside him, “The meat won’t be halal.”

Nicolò pulled his hands away, “Oh.”

Yusuf, “But you deserve a good meal.” He knelt beside Nicolò, and pulled out a small dagger. In quick time, they cut enough meat from the animal to make a good meal in their small stew pot. Yusuf wrapped it in burlap and tied it securely into a pack on the remaining camel. Nicolò looked from the remains of the camel he had ridden upon to the one that Yusuf was now trying to mount.

“I suppose I will have to ride with you,” he said.

Yusuf got down once again, “You sit in front.” He helped Nicolò up, and then got up himself. They set off further down the road. Yusuf held on to Nicolò’s waist. As they traveled, the jostling of the camel kept pressing their bodies together. Yusuf tried to keep his nose out of Nicolò’s hair. Even damp with sweat and beneath a dirty turban, the scent of Nicolò’s hair was more potent to him than the new distilled spirits being sold in Jerusalem. He turned his nose away and tried to focus on the passing landscape. _Sand. So much sand._

A strong jolt pushed their two bodies together, and Yusuf let out a soft, “Ooof!”

“Are you alright, Yusuf?” asked Nicolò.

“Yes,” replied Yusuf, “Yes, I am fine.”

 _Bone._ How vulgar. It wasn’t that Yusuf didn’t often think of boning Nicolò, and think of it for very long periods of time. Nicolò had taken a vow of celibacy, and even after a hundred years, he’d kept his vow. _He’s so good, a true man of faith,_ Yusuf always thought. _I could never ask him to compromise that with sins of the flesh._ Another jolt from the camel sent his nose straight into the sweet musk of Nicolò’s hair, and pressed Yusuf’s chest against the firm muscles of his back.

Andromache caught a glimpse of Yusuf inhaling deeply, and wished she could roll her eyes harder.

That evening, Yusuf set up the campfire and made a fine stew from the camel meat and some root vegetables they’d brought along. He spiced it lovingly and richly. He wouldn’t eat a bite, but he wanted his family to have a delicious meal, even as he ate his usual rations of dried fruits, jerkied fish, and stale bread.

Nicolò ate lustily, “This is so delicious, Yusuf. You really must have some yourself.” Yoosoof. He’d pronounced it that way the very first time he said it, and Yusuf was instantly charmed by it. He was charmed by nearly everything Nicolò did, and had spent a hundred years consumed with lust for a man who most certainly would not reciprocate these feelings. Yusuf accepted this. He was so kind, so thoughtful, so pure. He knew that God had brought them together and tied their fate with their shared immortality. If he had to spend that very long life never fulfilling his desires, so be it. It was enough to share this gift with him as friends.

Nicolò held out his bowl to Yusuf, but Yusuf pushed it away, “It is haram. Even if it were halal, I want you to eat well, keep your strength.” Nicolò smiled at him and finished his stew. Yusuf always put others first. Put himself between strangers and danger. Nicolò couldn’t imagine being immortal without him. Even though Andromache and Quynh were kind and nurturing mentors, if somewhat overly frank with certain topics, they were still mentors. Nicolò valued their wisdom, guidance, and protection, but he treasured the deep kinship he felt with Yusuf, something he felt deep within his soul. He had never felt it for any other person, and he doubted he would feel it for anyone else.

Together, they set up their tent beside Andromache and Quynh’s. Afterwards, Nicolò looked at the dried blood beneath the tears in his tunic, and the matching stains on Yusuf.

“Perhaps we should wash this off,” he said.

“Yes, we should,” said Yusuf, “I’ll wash your back.” Nicolò removed his tunic as Yusuf poured water over a clean rag. Tenderly, he wiped the blood from his back. It took all of his power of will to not let his touch linger on the warm, impossibly soft skin. He could map the freckles on Nicolò’s pale, broad shoulders like the stars in the sky.

“I’ll wash your back,” said Nicolò, taking the rag. Yusuf removed his tunic, and shivered at Nicolò’s touch. Nicolò couldn’t help but notice. He knew that Yusuf flushed whenever he spoke to him. He knew the gaze of longing that was so often cast in his direction. He pressed the damp rag against Yusuf’s skin. How many times had this skin been pierced in his defense? How many times had this skin been pierced in the defense of the innocent? He thought of Yusuf’s words from earlier in the day, “ _Nicolò is my brother!_ ” As a priest, Nicolò had referred to his fellow men of God as brother. He’d loved many of them as brothers, truly, but none of them, not even his dearest friends, had aroused the feelings in him that Yusuf did.

Nicolò leaned in close enough to smell the perfumed oil that Yusuf used in his hair, “You’re clean.”

“Thank you, Nicolò. It is greatly appreciated.”

From inside her tent, Andromache caught sight of them, “Jesus, could they be any stupider? You could hit the two of them over the head with a mace and they still wouldn't realize how in love they are.”

"Give them time," said Quynh.

"They've already had a hundred years!" replied Andromache, "How long is it going to take?!"

Yusuf and Nicolò went into their tent, ready to sleep. Nicolò tried to settle his mind to rest, but it kept churning. He remembered the glow of the firelight on Yusuf’s chest, and still felt the tenderness of his touch. He listened to Yusuf breathing beside him. He knew the deep, easy breaths that came when he was asleep. His breath now was relaxed, but not very deep.

“Are you still awake?” Nicolò asked.

“Yes,” replied Yusuf.

Nicolò shivered a little bit. The desert got very cold at night. It was bound to get colder, and he wondered if their thin blankets would keep him warm enough. Tentatively, he stuck his hand out to touch Yusuf’s arm.

Quietly he asked, “Are you cold?”

“A little,” said Yusuf.

Nicolò slipped under from his blanket and got beneath Yusuf’s. Yusuf made room for him, and rolled onto his side so that his back was turned to Nicolò. They had shared a bed on many a night. This would be no different. Nicolò felt the wall of Yusuf’s back against him, and was overcome with yearning for him to turn to face him. Andromache’s words rang in his ears.

Through all of his mortal life, Nicolò had resisted the temptation of lust. He had never really felt its pull. The vow of chastity had been the easiest vow to take. Now, Nicolò couldn’t help but think of what Yusuf had told him about his Prophet: that his revelations from God had come to him like a bell clanging in his head, reverberating throughout his whole body, overwhelming all of his other senses, painful. Nicolò’s heart was pounding. He felt as if his skin was on fire.

Yusuf had once stabbed him with his scimitar, the sharp metal going in and out of his flesh again and again. He felt his heart stop for the first time. When he awoke again, his heart stopped for a second time. The Muslim man, who Nicolò had watched collapse beside him, bleeding profusely from the fatal wound in his chest, stared back at him.

 _Those are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen_ Yusuf thought. In that moment, they both knew their lives were changed forever. They couldn’t have imagined how.

Yusuf’s breathing was still agitated. Finally, Nicolò reached over, and placed a hand on Yusuf’s back. He felt the muscles flinch at his touch.

“Yusuf.”

Yusuf had heard love songs, ballads, grand pieces played by master musicians, but nothing would ever sound sweeter to him than the sound of Nicolò saying his name. _Yoosoof._

Carefully, tenderly, Nicolo placed his lips against the back of Yusuf’s neck.

“Nicolò!” cried Yusuf, moving away.

“I have thought about what Andromache said,” said Nicolò, “Perhaps she is right.”

“No,” said Yusuf, “No, no.”

“Do you not want to?” asked Nicolò.

“You took a vow to God,” Yusuf replied.

“God sent you to me as a blessing,” said Nicolò, “I’ve always understood that. It’s only now that I realize… I should take every blessing as it is, and not deny any part of it.”

Yusuf got up, and went to the entrance of the tent. He held the flap open, and then stopped. He looked back at Nicolò, his face shining bright in the moonlight. The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Nicolò stared at the powerful frame silhouetted before him, and he knew what he wanted. He wanted that body against his. He stood up, and went over to Yusuf. He rose to his feet, and went over to where Yusuf stood. He put his hand on the side of Yusuf’s face, _such a handsome face!_ He drew him into a deep kiss.

Before, his soul had been dry kindling. For a hundred years, no spark could light it. Now, he burned with passion he never knew he could possess. Yusuf drew Nicolò into his arms.

“Yusuf,” moaned Nicolò, “I am ready to break my vow.”

“Take your clothes off,” whispered Yusuf, “And go kneel on the blanket.”

Nicolò did as he was told. The cold air made goosebumps rise all over his body. He listened to Yusuf dig around in his pack, fetching something. He heard Yusuf take off his own clothes, and then felt him kneeling behind him. He smelled the heady rose perfume of the oil that Yusuf used in his hair and beard.

Yusuf murmured in his ear, “Tell me if you want to stop.” Gently, he slipped his oiled fingers into Nicolò’s ass, causing him to gasp.

“I want you to enjoy this, Nicolò,” said Yusuf, “Because I will. I have been waiting a hundred years for this.” Nicolò could only moan in response.

Yusuf withdrew his fingers, and then pushed his cock in, causing Nicolò to cry out.

In the tent beside theirs, Andromache was roused from sleep. _Oh my god_ , she thought, _are they actually doing it_?

Yusuf thrust his hips faster. He wrapped his still-slick hand around Nicolò’s cock and began to stroke. Nicolò’s moans grew louder. His body fell limp against Yusuf’s. Yusuf pushed him down, onto his hands and knees, and his thrusts became even more forceful.

“Yusuf!” Nicolò gasped, “Yusuf, Yusuf!”

 _This is all your goddamn fault_ , Andromache told herself, _You summoned this particular demon, now you’re just going to have to live with it_. Beside her, she heard Quynh’s stifled laughter.

“Don’t laugh,” Andromache muttered, “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not funny,” replied Quynh, “It’s beautiful. Their love has always been true, and now they’ve finally realized it.”

“I just wish they weren’t so fucking loud,” griped Andromache. Quynh had to laugh.

Yusuf and Nicolò heard none of this. They were in their own perfect universe, where only they existed. Nicolò was close. Yusuf could feel it in the way his arms shook, the way his voice rose in pitch, becoming almost desperate. He stopped and withdrew.

Nicolò looked back at him, “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

Yusuf stood, and opened the tent flap again. The moon shone bright in Nicolò’s eyes. Yusuf went back over to him, and put his hands on his shoulders. He turned Nicolò to lay on his back.

“I want to see you,” murmured Yusuf, “I want to see the most beautiful eyes in the world.” He thrust into Nicolò once again, and Nicolò cried out helplessly. He came at Yusuf’s slightest touch. Pride swelled within Yusuf. Yes, he had done that. He had given Nicolò the pleasure he had so long denied himself. Finally, he came inside of Nicolò, and then collapsed panting beside him. Nicolò hooked and arm around Yusuf’s neck, and dragged himself on top of him, hungry for more kisses.

“I love you, Nicolò,” breathed Yusuf, “I have loved you for so long.”

“I love you, too,” whispered Nicolò, “How could I have taken so long to recognize it? I have been a fool.”

“You are no fool,” Yusuf replied, “You are a righteous man.”

“I am never more righteous than when I am with you,” said Nicolò.

In her tent, Andromache muttered to Quynh, “Can you believe these two cornballs?”

“You should be happy for them,” said Quynh, “Love is always meant to be cherished.”

“We’re going to have to listen to this from now on, you know that, right?” asked Andromache.

“It’s romantic,” said Quynh, “Romantic and beautiful. I wish someone would seduce me like that.”

Andromache fell into an awkward silence. Was this an invitation? _No. Never. It couldn’t be. Quynh was too good and beautiful for a rough, crude warrior like her._ Saying something might upset her, and Andromache could never forgive herself if that happened.

Silently, Quynh longed for a lover’s touch.

In their tent, Yusuf and Nicolò fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 _It’s the small things you do that make this biggest difference_ , Andromache thought, _About goddamn time_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, check out my big, long-term project: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523838


End file.
